


Perihelion

by merakiopia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action & Romance, Child Murder, Childhood Memories, Dark, Harry Potter References, Hogwarts, Hufflepuff, M/M, Murder, Pre-Hogwarts, Psychological Torture, Slytherin, Torture, this is a bit dark sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14486190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merakiopia/pseuds/merakiopia
Summary: He arrived the same day Aph did.He arrived in a huddle of first years, all trembling and afraid. He arrived in the centre of them all, his position, his power, already assured. He arrived with his flashing eyes and his cold smile. He arrived in a crown of glory, the darling of the school. He arrived, making everyone fall under his spell. He arrived, and Aph arrived, and that was the day Aph fell in love.He was everything to Aph. He was the earth he stepped on, the air he breathed. He was Aph’s life. He was Tom Marvelo Riddle and he would be the death of all who followed him.





	1. memories

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after Tom Riddle left his position at Borgin and Burkes under ' _mysterious circumstances_ '. It's set in the forests of Albania...

Aph's childhood is a blur of memories. Of hot, sticky summers and snow-white winters. Of the golden colours of autumn and the flowers blooming in spring. Of family and love and traces of magic. 

He remembers the time when his father transfigured a stick into a beautiful red rose for Mother's birthday and presented it to her with a flourish, eyes glittering in happiness. He remembers going out for picnics in a green, green field and Mother conjuring up Butterbeer and sandwiches and chocolate frogs. He remembers happiness and sunlight and Elaina and his mother and father. His toy broomstick and flying. Moments of magic. He remembers laughter and family and togetherness. It was the perfect place of love and joy. 

His memories are a blur, but some of his memories stand out like stars against the pitch black night. He remembers one person in particular. Elaina. Elaina, his sister, his light. In the end, everything seems to come back to her. 

He remembers the first bit of magic he did, turning his water into pumpkin juice when he was a toddler. The first sip from his cup tasted like something magical, sending a spark through him as he stared at the murky orange liquid where water had just been before. 

The first time his family realised he was magic was when he was seven years old. His mother had been baking cupcakes with him one autumn afternoon. They had just been finished, and he was reaching for the icing sugar in the cupboard, standing on top of the kitchen bench as his legs and arms strained to reach the bag. 

Elaina had come in, and seeing Aph on top of the bench, had gargled in excitement and climbed up onto chair. It was at that moment that Aph chose to try and step backwards onto the chair, icing sugar securely in hand. 

There was a moment just before he fell that he knew something was going to happen. For a heartbeat, he looked at his mother helplessly as he opened his mouth and screamed the pure, undulated scream of a child.

But no impact came. Aph had opened his eyes to see him hovering a few inches above the ground. His mother had swept him up into a hug, eyes filling with tears as she half-scolded his sister for causing Aph to fall. 

He remembers summer break, with the weather hot and sticky, nothing daring to stand in the sun for too long in fear of being melted. He was standing under the shade of the balcony, watching Elaina eat ice-cream straight out of the carton. His mother cast lazy glances at them as she skimmed a magazine from the relative coolness of the living room while his father watched as the dishes made their way into the sink at the flick of his wand, glancing up on occasion to make sure Aph and Elaina were still there.

Aph had laughed as he waved a spoon in front of Eliana's face. 

"Come on Lia, just give me one bite. Please? You're going to get brain freeze if you eat all of that at once!"

She had looked at him with her hazel eyes, green specks gleaming with a stubborn look as she shook her head at him. 

"No. Don't wanna. There's more ice-cream in the freezer Aphy, get it yourself."

He had smiled at that, reaching over to ruffle her hair and slide his spoon into the half-melted ice-cream. She had squealed and hugged the carton closer to her chest, shielding it from him with her body. It had been the first day all of their family had been together this summer, and it felt like freedom and hope and love. 

The memory shatters suddenly as he stumbles. He nearly falls, cursing silently as he looks up at the canopy above. He remembers a lot of these moments these days.

Memories of happiness and his parents and Elaina. _Elaina_. It's a wish, a hope, and he fights back tears as he continues walking. 

_Elaina, I miss you so, so much. I'm sorry. Forgive me. Please._


	2. night

It's dark in these woods, and dangerous as well. But _he's _here. Aph can feel it, his presence tugging on his heartstrings, just like his first day at Hogwarts. The first time he saw Tom Marvelo Riddle, everything stopped.__

__He had been on the Hogwarts Express, sitting in a carriage with a group of first years. They had talked their way all through the train ride, jumping from one topic to another and only stopping as the Trolley Witch came by with her Pumpkin Pasties and Chocolate Frogs. They discussed the houses they wanted to be sorted into, the Quidditch teams they supported and the classes they were excited for._ _

__Near the end of the journey, they were talking and laughing, swapping Chocolate Frog cards like they had known each other for a few years instead of the few hours they spent together. All of they had resolved in an unspoken pact to remain firm friend no matter what the outcome of the sorting was._ _

__Dusk had just begun to stretch it's mauve fingers across the sky, and all of them had stopped to watch the mountains turn a spectrum of colours as the sun cast out its final, dying rays. They spilt across the purple sky, illuminating the mountains in one final show of beauty. For a moment, Aph's breath was stolen away, the surreal beauty stirring something inside his heart. In all the books he had read about Hogwarts, not one of them had ever mentioned the simplistic beauty of the sunset._ _

__Everyone in the carriage had their noses pressed against the window, robes dangling haphazardly off one shoulder. Their words had died down inside their throats, hands slack with shock and eyes as round as Galleons._ _

__And as it often is with good first impressions, the door opened with a bang._ _

__Tom had already amassed a crowd of followers, first year boys who trailed behind him like sheep would follow their shepherd. Or, as Aph reflected on the event later on, as a dog would blindly follow his master off a cliff._ _

__Aph's compartment had turned around, cowed by the aura of confidence exuded by the boy standing in the doorway. All of them had shrank against the corners of their compartment, shrinking smaller with every second he occupied the doorway. All of them except for Aph._ _

__He had just stood there, watching the boy with the brilliantly green eyes cast his derisive glance around the compartment._ _

__Tom had smiled once, brilliantly dazzling, and with the slightest hint of a wink, disappeared into the corridor._ _

__That had been the moment Aph fell in love._ _

__Not with his smooth, beautiful face, or his graceful elegance, but with the brokenness inside him. Aph had seen something irrevocably, undeniably broken inside of Tom Riddle and he wanted to fix it. He wanted to be Tom's equal instead of a just another follower. He wanted to be seen._ _

__Once upon a time, in a moment long gone, that was what he wanted._ _

__Now, he wants something else._ _

__He misses a tree by a mere inch and takes a moment to look up at the moon, a mere crescent hanging in the sky. It will be gone in a few days and in a few more, a new moon will emerge as a silver crescent, hanging like a prop in the sky._ _

__In five days' time, it will be Elaina's birthday and instead of laughing, drinking and dancing with his family and friends, he will be here. Searching for the remnant of a boy he thought he knew years ago._ _

__For a moment, he sees a flicker in the corner of his eyes, and he turns, searching for a bonfire, a light, anything in this endless expanse of forest. There's nothing but the wind whistling through the trees, and Aph is left alone with his dreams._ _

__That night, he dreams of Elaina and Tom, and in his dreams, he watches helplessly as they disappear slowly in a cloudy grey mist. He's unable to do anything but scream endlessly into the greyness of his mind._ _


	3. dreams

It's a gauzy sort of day, that kind of humid that sticks to your skin and makes you sweat, even when you're standing still. That's what Aph wakes up to, his heavy breathing drowned out by the sounds of bird calls echoing out across the forest. The panicked look in his eye dies down slightly and for a brief moment, he wonders if Tom can hear these bird calls too. They're sweet, their melody a balm for his pounding heart, and he strains his ears to catch the dying tune as the last bird call fades away. For a moment, Aph sits there and listens to the silence, the forest somehow left quieter than before. 

The day hasn't quite reached the forest yet, the sun able to stretch its lazy fingers above the trees before noon, but Aph moves on anyway, shoving everything he has into his backpack and shouldering it as he walks along. 

For a moment, he contemplates the futility of the task, and wonders, not for the first time, whether or not he should have a map, or any sort of direction. Then, he shakes his head. For him, Tom Marvelo Riddle isn't someone you can find with a plan. 

There's another day of pointless wandering, of walking around in seemingly massive circles in an attempt to find Tom. And at night, there's nothing, not a flicker of a campfire or a whisper of a voice through the trees. 

There's only silence that seems to engulf him as he eats quietly, under the canopy of trees and the sky filled with cold, cold stars. He can see the stars, clearer than he's ever seen them, and he picks out Orion the hunter and Aquila and Canis Major, holding them close to his chest, their shimmering, shining bodies the last thing he sees before he slides into the void. 

He revisits a memory this time, the edges of his vision fuzzy and distorted. He's carried forward through the halls of Hogwarts against his own will, his head bowed as he draws, endlessly, in his leather-bound notebook that was his 14th birthday present from his parents. 

Somehow, Aph recognises this day, this moment. He remembers this feeling, of being surrounded by friends, with Arthur on his right teasing him about something he did in Transfiguration and Lilian arguing with Ann about the technicalities of a cheering charm. Winter had just begun to give up its merciless cold, and although there was still a nip in the air, a warm spring air brought with it promises for a fresh start.

Arthur had been wrapped up in layers of clothing, scarf haphazardly wrapped around his neck as he rubbed his rosy red nose. Aph's lived this moment before, and he tries to wake himself up, but he's bound within his own body as he sketches, hands gliding over paper as he sketches Tom, his pale face and perfect hands, his cold smile and those beautiful, broken eyes. As he draws the boy he loves the most.

The bundle of clothing besides him bounces energetically up and down, Arthur attempting the to snatch the notebook away from Aph's hands. Aph didn't mind, in fact, he laughed as he moved his notebook away from Arthur's curious eyes. Once, his hands came too close to Aph's notebook and Aph jerked it away, causing the pieces of parchment to come flying out, cascading to the floor. 

Aph can do nothing but freeze as Arthur laughs and bends over to pick them up. He turns one over, jokingly looking up at Aph and then back down at the picture in his hand. There's a second where his mind catches up to what he sees. Then he straightens up, turning back to Aph, his eyes a stormy, worried grey. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, a hand reaches past him and plucks a drawing from the ground. It was a drawing of Tom, his Tom, frozen in a moment of happiness. It was the first time he had seen the Great Hall, his expression of awe and respect marked across his face. It's one of the many moments Aph remembers about Tom. But this one's special, because it's one of the few moments Aph remembers where Tom isn't broken.

He thinks about these things as he looks up at the pale face of the boy who took his drawing. It's Tom of course, his Tom that holds it, a half smile gracing his face as the contemplates it with an air of vague amusement. 

Arthur is stoically silent behind him, his face a fraction paler than before. To Aph, it's strange that Arthur doesn't like Tom, doesn't see Tom as the boy with a charismatic personality and winning attitude. But all Arthur can think about are the rumours he's heard about Tom, the darkness that lingers in his eyes when he talks to others and the way his eyes twitch and because of the flash of red that appeared in his eyes as he looked at Aph. Just like a snake would contemplate a rabbit.

Aph doesn't know any of this though, all he knows is that he can't breathe, can't breathe as Tom looks at him with those broken eyes and brushes past him, tucking the drawing away in his pocket without so much as a word. All he knows is that the boy he loves looked a little less broken than before. As soon as Tom leaves, Arthur sweeps up the rest of the drawings and hands them to Aph with trembling hands, walking past him into the common room without so much as a word. 

They don't talk for the rest of the week. 

That's what Aph remembers as he wakes up, tears decorating his face like diamonds. 

He remembers Arthur, Arthur and his kind heart and loving nature. He remembers Arthur, his best friend at school and stoic supporter throughout Aph's life. He remembers Arthur and then says goodbye, leaving the memories of his best friend on the ground of a clearing, the gold and red leaves burying the last of Aph's goodbyes.

Arthur's gone now, and no amount of mourning could bring him back. Nothing could bring him back. 

But Aph can stop the one person who cause his death, and that's what he's going to do.


	4. day

Aph can feel it in his bones, can feel the feeling vibrate through him. Today's another day of fruitless walking. 

The trees cast their shadows down through the canopies and if Aph thinks about it hard enough, he can almost hear them leering at him, the boy who's lost in the forests of Albania. He doesn't want to think about it, so he daydreams, eventually finding his mind wandering back to the topic he least wants to think about. Flashes of Arthur and Lillian pop up in his mind, but he pushes them aside, focusing on Tom instead. 

Tom, with his pale face and glittering eyes. Tom, his beautiful, broken Tom, who's somewhere in this forest, planning something as Aph walks through the forests of Albania without a plan. For a moment, Aph is scared, his mind flicking back to the last time he saw Tom. There had been a brief flash, then something black had fled out the window and he entered the room to find the walls painted with blood.

That was when Aph felt himself breaking for the first time, the red-brown walls and the ghost of Tom's hideous smile all that he saw before he began retching, bile burning the back of his throat and spilling onto the carpet. In his shock, all he could do was stare at the bloody body that seemed nothing like the Arthur he once knew. 

He can almost smell it, the tang of iron and the smell of new paint. It had been Arthur's first anniversary with Lillian and they had been preparing for the baby, the cot in the corner horrifyingly the only unstained object in the entire room. The memory pierces Aph until he almost can't breathe, and he crumples as his chest tightens. He thinks of the bright golden leaves, forces his friends from his mind until all he can picture is red and gold.

They're brave, bold colours. Brave, just like Arthur was. 

Aph looks down and sees scarlet on his clothes, the blood soaking into the fabric as pain engulfs his torso. His hands, a minute ago so spotless are now covered in blood, dripping onto his shirt as he gasps, frantically tearing off his clothes. Something rips but Aph can't bring himself to care, doesn't care when he's dying. His clothes are scattered around him when he finally calms down, staring at his chest as it heaves up and down. 

There's something hypnotic about this and Aph lies there among the leaves until he's calmed down, his jackrabbit heart easing slightly as he slips his clothes back on, muttering a reparative spell for the clothing he has damaged. Then, he get up and shoulders his pack, once again leaving the memories of his friends behind.

He's not sure whether or not he's successful this time, but all that matters to him is that he's not thinking about them right now because if he does, he'll break. Everything that mattered to him back at Hogwarts is gone, and he tells himself that there's no point looking back to the past. 

Instead, he looks forward, setting one foot in front of the other until dusk arrives. That's when he puts down his pack, and finally falls asleep, dreams consuming him. 

It's not a memory he revisits but a nightmare, something that has been haunting him for weeks now, ever since he set foot in the forests of Albania. 

There's Tom, but not his Tom, standing among a circle of trees. His eyes are red, mouth screwed up into a fierce, frenzied grin as he drags off Elaina, the light of his life, the sun to his darkness, into the shadowy mists. And all Aph can do is watch. Watch, unable to scream as Elaina begs for help, screaming as tears stream down her cheeks, nails racking across Tom's face. 

He doesn't bleed though, only smiles wider, face split in a horrific parody as a laugh echoes around the dreamscape. But Elaina bleeds, wounds opening up in front of Aph's eyes as she grows paler and quieter until finally Tom carries her off into the darkness, his red eyes being the last to disappear.

Aph wakes up to the darkness, and the silence frightens him until it's punctuated by the soft hoos of an owl far off in the distance. He thinks of Gailen, his beautiful tawny owl at home, and as the night envelops him in its darkness, he drifts off again, Gailen's calls ringing in his ears.


	5. fire

Aph wakes early the next morning, sun still hidden behind the mountains, birds chirping merrily as they soar high above the thick forest canopy. If he closes his eyes and pretends enough, he can imagine he's still at home with Elaina sleeping in the room beside him. He wants to believe it so badly that he almost lets the warmth of his sleeping bag rock him to sleep once more. 

But he's here for a reason, and that reason isn't to pretend he's still safe at home, not alone in the wide expanse of the forests of Albania. He forces himself out of his sleeping bag, packing up his things and pulling out a granola bar from his backpack, eating as he walks. 

Soon after, an eerie silence seems to fall over the forest, bird calls that seemed so beautiful when he first woke up becoming distorted and strange as they echo off into the distance. The only thing Aph can hear are his footsteps, slow and methodical as he walks through the forest. The branches grab his backpack, face, hair and he fights them off with a great yell, spinning around and pulling his wand out of his pocket, body trembling but hand steady. 

There's nothing there but trees, and his breathing relaxes once more, the feeling of being watched fading to the back of his mind. The wand, however, stays firmly in his hand as he begins walking again, occasionally looking down at it to reassure himself that it's still there. 

He's not sure how long he's been walking when something makes him stop. There's something different about this part of the forest, an aura that makes Aph pause in his step and look around. There's a scent of decay and something else that hovers just at the edge of his memory, eluding his grasp as he futilely tries to place it. 

All of a sudden, he remembers.

It's the smell of cookies baking in the over and his mother's sweet jasmine perfume. It's the scent of the furniture and the carpet, of Elaina and Gailen and his father. It's the scent of willow tree, standing tall and proud in his backyard, of freshly mown grass and fresh, crisp air. It's the smell of home. By the time he realises this, he's already running towards it, the day already melting into dusk.

Although he can't remember where those hours went, he accepts the time anyway, crashing through the undergrowth as a dim red glow becomes apparent up ahead. He can't tell how far away the glow is, but he runs towards it anyway.

The thought of seeing Tom, his Tom, again so soon is enough to make him run faster through the trees. This time, when his bag is caught by the branches, he shrugs it off and continues running towards the glow that he now knows with absolute certainty is a fire. The thought that the person there might not be his Tom never crosses his mind. After all, who else would be in the forests of Albania?

There's blood running down his arms in small rivulets from where the branches clawed at him, but he doesn’t care anymore, doesn't care that he almost can't breathe as he sprints through the undergrowth, breath coming in short bursts as his body screams for oxygen. His wounds sting, but he doesn't care and he laughs in giddy delight as he continues running, the red glow growing stronger.

It's been days, no, weeks since he's felt this alive. 

Suddenly, Arthur's face appears on the edge of his vision, and he spins, leg catching a hole in the ground. He plummets, hands flailing as he clutches his wand, and hits the ground so hard that for a moment, all he can see is black and white. There's a ringing in his ears and his head pounds, but he ignores both these things as he looks around frantically for any sign of Arthur. 

He knows what he'll see, but his heart falls anyway as he glimpses nothing but the trees, painted an uneasy red by the crimson glow up ahead. The vision, however, has brought Aph back to reality, made him remember the walls painted with blood, and the Dark Mark hovering above the house. 

And so, it's with caution he makes his was towards the campfire, a _Muffliato _charm silencing his movements as he walked towards the flickering light. He's a few metres away from the light now, the fire in the middle of the grove visible through the trees. He pauses, thinks about turning back, and for a few seconds, he entertains the notion as he thinks about Tom. Thinks about Elaina.__

__It's been a while since he's pictured her in his mind, and he has to think for a while before he can see her again, picture her beautiful brown hair and large hazel eyes. He can barely remember the soft lilt of her voice, the cadences that accompanied her as she spoke. He's already begun to forget her smile, vivid as the sun and as lovely as the stars. The realisation makes tears well in his eyes, and he rubs them furiously, trying to stifle his gasps for air._ _

__He can picture her now at Hogwarts, sitting in the Great Hall and waiting with eagerness as owls swoop down to others, dropping letters from friends and family. He can feel her disappointment as nothing arrives. It's been months since he's written to her, months that he's spent wandering through this very forest, looking for a glimpse of the boy he once knew._ _

__Then, he thinks of Lillian, of her cold hands and open brown eyes, staring vacantly at the ceiling above. Her stomach curved slightly with maternity. His resolution mends itself once more, and he pauses just long enough to fling an object from his pocket before he walks on, towards the dancing fire._ _

__The object only pauses for a moment, almost looking back, before it flies towards the sunrise._ _


	6. found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first (and probably) the only thing you need to understand with this story is that there is a distinct difference for Aph between Tom and Voldemort. Tom is the boy Aph knew - the one who appeared to be kind, the one who seemed to have feelings. To Aph, Tom is human, the boy he fell in love with all those years ago at Hogwarts.
> 
> Voldemort on the other hand is a completely different person. He is the murderer, the man with red eyes that murdered Aph's friends. He's the one who Aph hates, and who Aph is most afraid of because Voldemort is the person - the thing - that stole Tom from him.

Nothing greets him but silence. Even the fire doesn't crackle and spit, the flames an eerie shade of emerald. The shadows cast by the flames reach towards Aph as he walks across the grove, causing him to skirt around like a mouse would a cat. It's as if the whole world is holding his breath, Aph's footsteps muffled as he walks across the autumn leaves. For a few seconds, he holds his breath too, in a vain attempt to hear any glimmer of sound.

There's something that seems to hover at the edge of his hearing, something barely there, but that something sends Aph scrambling across the grove, searching for that elusive sound that rings faintly in his ears. By the time he's reached the other side though, the sound has already faded, and nothing remains but a heavy silence. 

Before he knows it, tears are welling up in his eyes, and he's crying on the mossy floor, wisps of sunlight covering his body as he cries alone, thousands of miles away from the girl he loves the most.  
-

She talks to her friends, a flick of her wrist sending her brown hair tumbling over her shoulders. On occasion, she glances upwards, towards the roof of the Great Hall, searching for an owl that might bear a letter to her. There's hope of her eyes, an indescribable eagerness that makes her friends' hearts break as the last owl swoops down towards the Gryffindor table, leaving the cloudy sky of the Great Hall bare. 

The chatter around the Great Hall dips and swells as the students talk and eat. She can see people laughing with each other from the corner of her eye as she stares blankly at the single slice of buttered toast in front of her, a single bite taken out of it. Her friend sets a glass of orange juice in front of her, and the movement makes her look up, eyes filling steadily with unshed tears. 

Suddenly, her friends are looking anywhere but at her, their conversation strained and loud as they try desperately to drown out the sorrow of the girl who sits at the Ravenclaw table so devastatingly alone. 

She gets up and nearly sprints out of the Great Hall, robes flying as she draws looks from the other tables. She can't stop the tears from falling and her voice is muffled as she reaches the enchanted door knocker, the raven looking at her pityingly after she answers, before swinging forward to admit her into the dormitory. 

By the time her friends come back up after breakfast, she's already under her covers, face buried in her pillow. They pretend not to notice her silent sobs, the way her shoulders heave. She stays there all day, her friends leaving her food, tissues and small presents to try to cheer her up. 

To a small extent, they do, but she spends the rest of the day wondering whether or not she has a brother anymore. And selfishly, she wishes she could find out soon.  
-

The day fades into dusk before Aph finally musters the energy to sit up. The flames, so silent before, seem to whisper to him. Occasionally, Aph catches a word that makes him whisper, and he fights the temptation to run away as far as he can because this - this fire which climbs higher and higher as he circles around it - is his only link to Tom. 

An owl _hoos _somewhere, and Aph turns around, startled. By the time he turns his attention back to the fire, he can see an indistinct figure walking in the middle, walking towards him. There's nothing Aph can do but draw his wand and point it at the fire as the figure grows larger and walks out of the fire.__

__Aph's breath catches for a moment as he looks at Tom._ _

__His features seem distorted somehow, but he's still handsome, still bearing that elegance and brokenness that Aph had fallen in love with all those years ago. The same smile graces his face, eyes still cold and distant as he inclines his head at Aph._ _

__Aph can do nothing but gape at Tom, and for a moment there's silence. But for the first time in as long as he can remember, it's a silence of understanding._ _

__There's a movement as Tom reaches into his pockets, snapping Aph out of his daze as he levels his wand once more at Tom, hands trembling slightly. Tom does nothing but smile, two long fingers drawing out a piece of paper, yellowed with age and crinkled around the edges._ _

__Everything freezes as Aph stares the piece of paper. It's a drawing he remembers well, a moment frozen in time as a little boy looks up in wonder at the Great Hall. It's the drawing that Tom took and kept all those years. His vision tunnels, and he finds his eyes glued to the painting, to the elegant strokes that decorated the page._ _

__His heart hurts, but not in the same way anymore, and he feels fifteen again, feels as young as he did when Tom first picked up the drawing and kept it. He looks up at Tom and smiles back, forgetting Arthur, forgetting Lilian and the room filled with death._ _

__In that moment, nothing exists but the boy in front of him, the boy who's smiling, whose eyes seem a little less broken than before. Aph misses the movement, and for a fraction of a second, he stands there motionless. Then, with a gasp, he topples over, eyes fluttering closed as he falls to the ground, head inches away from the boy he loves the most._ _

__For a second, Voldemort's eyes turn red as he looks at Aph. Then, Tom walks over to the prone figure, and lifting his wand, he begins to chant._ _


	7. bound

When Aph first wakes, his mind is nothing but fog, thoughts hazily swimming through the whiteness of his mind. He can't focus on anything around him, sounds and sight all blurring together in an indistinct mess, but a lucid moment flashes across his mind, tearing away the fog as his desperately tries to remember how he ended up like this, in this glade with the mossy floor. 

He shakes his head a few times and tries to focus his eyes, taking in what looked like a campfire pit before everything starts swimming again, and he grits his teeth in pain as he fights to rid his vision of the dark spots that keep dancing in front of his eyes. 

For a moment, he thinks he can remember something, something about Tom and this glade and a fire, but then that moment is gone and all Aph is left with is a headache that drills through his skull. There's something not quite right about the way he remembers these things, the way the memories he has don't really slot together, but he can't place it. 

He's distracted by the pain in his wrists, and for the first time, he realises he's tied up, hands lashed above his head to a tree right above him, his body lashed with a leather belt to the tree trunk and legs bound in the same way. He can’t feel the ground below him, and it takes him a few seconds to realise that he's suspended a few metres above ground. He shifts slightly, the rough bark rubbing against his back as his eyes dart frantically around the glade, looking for a way out. 

There's nothing there to help him. 

He squints, trying to focus his eyes on the figures that sit beyond his vision, shrouded in the cloak of darkness that night has provided. There's still nothing there, the wind whistling softly through the leaves, movements making Aph's eyes twitch back and forth nervously like a rabbit. 

All he knows was that he was looking for Tom in Albania and suddenly, he was here, in this glade where he was going to die before anyone found him. Morbid thoughts seize him, and he thinks about his corpse, still dangling from the tree for years to come as he slows rots to a skeleton and finally to dust, blown away by the wind. 

The tears nearly burst out, but he forces them back with a swallow, his hysteria building up within him as he desperately tries to loosen his bonds. He tries, fruitlessly, again and again, but no matter what he does, they say in place, cutting and chafing as his twists and turns, nearly dislocating something as he gives one of his arms a furious wrench. 

The black dots dance across his vision for a few moments before they subside again, an odd ringing echoing in his ears as he shakes his head, ignoring the stabs of pain from his headache. By the time they're gone, Tom is right in front of him. 

The sight makes Aph gasp, body pressed against the tree as he takes Tom in. There's something different about Tom, about the way he moves, or simply is, but Aph can't place it until their eyes lock. His eyes are a crimson red, features waxy and distorted as a predatory grin stretches across his face.

Aph can feel nothing now but the pounding of his heart. He's acutely aware of every single part of his body, can feel his fingers tingling as blood rushes to his cheeks and ears. He knows this man, has been searching for both him and Tom ever since he caught a glimpse of the shadow the fled from Arthur's house. His name slips out from Aph's lips unbidden, and hangs between them, heavy and poignant.

'Voldemort.'

The grin grows demonic, Voldemort's voice somehow almost reasonable as he talks. 

'Hey Aph. Been a while, hasn't it?'

There's a flash of darkness. By the time Aph can see clearly again, Voldemort's gone. 

But Aph finds that he doesn't care anymore. All he knows is that he has to find Tom, has to find the boy which he fell in love with all those years ago. But as he looks around the clearing, he realises that, for the first time in his life, he has no idea what to do. 

He spends hours staring at the sky, wishing upon every star that he sees that the little bird he sent reaches the girl with those beautiful dancing hazel eyes. The dark is already giving way to dawn by the time he tears his eyes away from the sky, pink streaks darting across the sky and towards the other side of the horizon. 

The fire pit nearby still smoulders, the embers an unnatural shade of green. When he closes his eyes, he can see the green, the light burned into his eyes. 

A movement to the left of Aph makes his head snap up and stare intently at a nearby tree, the shadow shifting as a boy with dark brown eyes steps forward, face pale and haunted, the embers throwing the shadows on sharp relief on his face. 

Aph whispers his name, throat closing up as he looks at the boy. 

_'Tom.' ___


End file.
